A Sea of Troubles
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: Sleep has never been the Winchesters' friend, let alone after Dean's been to Hell and back.


**A Sea of Troubles**  
K Hanna Korossy

He didn't want to leave.

Nights with Ruby had been a solace, a chance to lose himself in passion, both for sex and for revenge. It'd let him forget for a short while that his brother was suffering in Hell because of him, and that for all Sam's promises, he hadn't been able to save the one who'd always saved him.

But Dean had somehow come back anyway, and now training with Ruby had abruptly become a distraction instead of a relief.

Sam chewed on a finger as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket again, another text from Ruby asking where he was. He didn't take his eyes off his sleeping brother to look.

Dean was… Dean wasn't different. Shouldn't four months in Hell change you? But he was still that unique mix of paternal and fraternal, comforter and clown. He'd slid back into the "big brother" open slot in Sam's life as if he'd never left.

Sam was the one who'd changed.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders rounded as he considered the sleeper. Dean hadn't even stripped for bed, had just fallen asleep mid-conversation on top of the covers, like he was making up for lost time. Sam had huffed silently as he'd dropped a blanket over him: he would've suffered a lot more than just sleepless nights in Hell. Perhaps he couldn't remember it, but he did seem more fragile now to Sam, no longer invincible. Someone Sam wanted to protect rather than sought protection from.

Different because Sam was different. Because things were different. Because the world had changed completely with Dean's death.

And that included Sam making his own deal with a demon, doing things that he never would have considered once, because they were what needed to be done. He _would_ save Dean this time. And if that meant leaving him here, alone and vulnerable for the moment, so be it. It would be worth it in the end.

Convinced, Sam crept out of the room, careful to make sure he didn't wake his brother.

Still feeling torn in two.

00000

Sam still wasn't out of the shower.

Dean hadn't missed the extra cups of coffee his brother was drinking since his _return_, or the fact that Sam kept sneaking out at night, apparently unable to sleep. He still looked as tired as when Dean had first laid eyes on him in that motel with the girl, but with a lot less reason now to go sleepless. Hence longer showers, windows open to the brisk Dakota air, and other means to keep himself awake that Sam probably thought were subtle.

Dean snorted as he rolled up his jeans and stuck them in his bag.

Maybe being out on the road again would help. They'd imposed on Bobby's hospitality long enough, and had mostly cleaned up the mess the Witnesses had left behind. Sam wanted to get back on the Lilith hunt, Castiel had vaguely directed them to get out there to do "God's work," and Dean was longing to cut loose in his baby again. Maybe going back to work was what they all needed.

He zipped his duffel and glanced around the room. They didn't have much, had even less to pack up. And the smell of bacon from downstairs was getting mighty hard for his stomach to ignore. But the shower was still going…

Dean reached over and mussed the covers he'd straightened out just a few minutes before. Made his bed look slept-in instead of untouched. Tried not to remember Sam's face that first morning after Dean had caught up to him, when he'd come out of the bathroom and Dean was just returning from packing up the car and Sam had frozen, face going _white _at the sight of the empty room and neat bed. Failed to forget it yet again.

For Dean, it felt like he'd died and come back the same day. Sam, however, had gone four months alone with only his guilt to keep him company. And the random girl, but that was just one more thing wrong with this picture. It wasn't actually that much of a surprise that Sam still looked for him first thing in the morning, or when he walked into a room, or even when they'd been apart for any length of time. Nor to have moments of doubt that his big brother was really back, or forget briefly that he wasn't alone anymore.

So if it took some rumpled blankets and a crooked pillow to reassure him, Dean could do that. The sleepless nights would still need some work, but Dean would be happy just never seeing his brother look so stricken again.

Neither of them mentioned it when Sam came down for breakfast, although Sam gave him a long look along with his coffee. Dean quirked him a smile back.

Things felt better already.

00000

Sam glanced up, mouth open to share what he'd learned about the _kasha _he was pretty sure they were looking for, then closed it again at the sight that greeted his eyes. One that was rapidly becoming the norm.

Dean was sacked out on top of his bed, even his shoes still on, mouth slack as he breathed deeply in sleep. He looked comfortable, like he was resting peacefully, and Sam was grateful for that. The fact that Dean never seemed to do that actually _in_ bed anymore, however, was cause for worry.

Maybe he was subconsciously avoiding sleep? Even if he didn't remember Hell, it could be seeping into his dreams. Not, Sam thought with a spike of guilt, that he was often around now when Dean was sleeping. Sam still needed to practice with Ruby even if he wasn't drinking the blood anymore. Especially if he wasn't. But still, it wasn't like Dean was tossing restlessly whenever Sam did see him sleep. He just…didn't want to go to bed.

Sam got up and, like a half-dozen other nights of late, first eased his brother's boots off, then took a blanket off his own bed and covered Dean with it. Dean also slept more deeply since his return, oblivious to Sam's nocturnal activities in a way he never would have been in the past. Again, not a bad thing in itself, but what it said about Dean… Sam had no clue. Not like he could look up what to expect when someone came back from the Pit.

Dean sighed in his sleep as the blanket cut the chill in the room, nestling into the covers. Sam found himself smiling a little at the sight. He shook his head, then tiptoed back to the table, and his research.

They had a lot left to do.

00000

"Dean?"

He heard it as from underwater, layers of sleep between him and the voice. Dean groggily pushed toward it, not sure if he was leaving dreams behind or sinking deeper into them.

"Dean." A whisper this time, soft and uncertain.

He chased the soft sound out into the dark, chilly motel room. Neon haze shown through the thin curtains, and the heater chugged wearily in one corner. Dean blinked, rubbing his eyes as he turned his head. "Yeah, Sam?"

A pause, then, "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

Calling his name at—Dean squinted—3:44 a.m. wasn't nothing, but his brain wasn't too foggy to understand what was going on. In fact, he was pretty sure he remembered Sam doing this once or twice already, even if in the morning it seemed like just a dream. He rolled onto his side, seeing the dim outline of his brother's form in the other bed and, just barely, the whites of Sam's wide-open eyes. "'M okay, Sam."

He could hear the long breath over the sound of the heater. The white spheres pinched together, then disappeared. "'Kay."

He blearily made himself stay awake until he heard Sam's breathing even out, then flicked him a sad smile before also letting himself drift back to sleep.

Next motel, they were getting a quieter room because he was pretty sure Sam would call him again, and Dean wanted to make sure he answered.

00000

The cookies were amazing. Devil's food cookies, Mr. Jellicoe had called them when he handed over the plastic container. The elderly bachelor had turned out to be a great baker, and had kept them well-fed the two days they'd stayed with him to help him with his little _problem, _but apparently he'd saved the best for their send-off. Sam heartily approved.

"S'good," Dean echoed his feelings with crumb-spewing enthusiasm next to him on the bed, reaching for more while his cheeks were still bulging.

"Dude, these are better than pie. You'd better not eat them all," Sam added in afterthought, snatching another cookie just in case.

"Nothing's better than pie." Dean paused. "But these come close," he allowed. He gave Sam a black-caked smirk and shoved another cookie into his mouth.

Sam rolled his eyes and surreptitiously filled his hand before returning to the movie they were watching.

He'd downloaded a bootleg copy of _Iron Man_, which Dean had missed that summer on account of dying the day it came out. Sam had somehow been too busy to see it. So there they were in a motel in Nebraska, or maybe Oklahoma, hunched around the laptop as the movie played, stuffing their faces and cheerfully trying to shove each other off the bed. It was one of the best evenings they'd had in a long time.

"You know what would go really well with this?" Dean asked in an only slightly crumb-choked voice.

"Shutting up so we can hear the movie?" Sam guessed, pausing play for the umpteenth time.

"Milk."

Sam stared at him.

Dean's brow furrowed. "What? I drink milk."

"Besides Bailey's?"

"Shut up. Go see if they have milk in the mini-mart across the street."

"Why me? You're the one who wants milk before bed, man."

"You've got your boots on," Dean pointed out.

Which, true. Dean had actually taken his off before climbing onto the bed, and had even tucked his gun away into the nightstand drawer. It was as close to relaxing as Sam saw him these days. Maybe they were finally starting to settle in again.

With a put-upon sigh, Sam shoved himself up, reaching for his jacket. "I just want you to know, I'm only doing this because I know your knee still hurts."

"Yeah, whatever. Oh, and bring me some Doritos, too, bitch."

Sam scowled at him, which Dean deflected effortlessly with a grin.

Sam shook his head, pocketing the room key from the table by the door. "Just…don't fall asleep while I'm gone, okay?" he said. And damned if that didn't come out more seriously than he'd intended.

Dean's grin softened. "Don't take too long out there," he countered.

Sam nodded back. He felt Dean's eyes on him as he went out the door, making sure it locked behind him, and headed across the street.

They were both seriously messed up, had already been pre-Hell, let alone after the last four-plus months. They had a long way to go before even their nights were normal, let alone their days. But they were together, and they were trying.

Eventually, he hoped, the rest would come.

**The End**


End file.
